Chapter 12
Twelve
Lacey
I stare at him, wet eyes wide and unblinking. "Cole, I…" I shake my head. "Just like that?"
He shrugs his heavy shoulders. "No, not…
of course it's not that easy, Sweet Thing.
I just found out. I've got a billion questions and a billion feelings to sort through.
I…I'm kinda angry at you. I'm confused. I'm hurt.
I'm shocked. Beyond shocked—fuckin'…what's more than shocked?
Stunned? Flabbergasted? Like, what the fuck, Lace?
I have a whole-ass goddamn human being out there that came from me that I've spent almost half my life not knowing about? "
I physically flinch at his words, gasping at the lance of guilt and shame and agony that pierces me at the wrecked timbre of his voice—gritty, raspy, hoarse, shredded. Tears start in my eyes, filling and hazing my vision. "Cole."
Big hands frame my face. Lift my chin so I'm gazing up at him.
"None of that changes anything. I still forgive you.
Yes, Lacey, I'm all those things. Hurt. Angry.
Confused. Shocked. More shit I don't know the words for.
Feelings ain't exactly my strong suit—talking about them especially so.
But I…I care about you. That never stopped being true, not for a second.
You were trying to do the right thing, Lacey.
I know you. I always knew you had to have had a damn good reason.
And I…I think…" he blinks hard, tipping his head back, growling gruffly, coughing around what I suspect was a half-sob.
"I think I always knew, or at least suspected, that it was this.
I think I assumed you'd…" he hesitates over the phrase.
"Gotten an abortion. I never thought that…
I guess I figured you either got rid of it or kept it and were a single mom.
I've never said that out loud to anyone, ever, but that’s what I suspected, down in my heart of hearts. "
I scrub my eyes with the heels of my palms. "I've lived with the guilt of knowing I know and you don't. It's been this weight on my shoulders my whole life. But…how was I supposed to tell you? When? Just call you some Tuesday morning and be like, hey, how’s life?
By the way, you have a daughter? I didn't know how to…
" I shake my head, trailing off. "I never intended to come here, Cole.
I told you that. I just left. I left my phone, I left my friends, my house, my life.
Everything. I packed my clothes and sentimental stuff and just drove away.
I planned it, too. I found out about Eddie and his nineteen-year-old fuck-toy, Syvannah.
" I spell it. "With a fucking Y. She's literally young enough to be his daughter.
Not really the point. The point is that I confronted him with everything.
The nudes she was sending him. The Instagram posts showing her with all the designer shit he was buying her—and the credit card receipts I found in his desk to match.
He literally was so fucking arrogant about it that he kept the receipts.
He was barely even trying to hide it. I guess I'm not sure if it's better or worse that he didn’t care enough to hide it better.
I don't know." I touch the still-tender area around my healing eye.
“My temper hasn't exactly gotten any better, and I sort of lost it at him. He slapped me."
I watch Cole's face darken with rage. "That motherfucker," he snarls. "He'd better hope I never come face to face with him."
I touch his chest. "Don't, Cole. He's not worth it."
"You are."
"I took a lot of shit from that man over the ten years I was with him. There was a lot of cheating that I knew about but pretended not to—pretended to myself and to him. They were all age-appropriate, I suppose. Wives at the country club. Receptionists at work. But when I saw that his latest piece of ass was a literal fucking child barely old enough to fucking vote, that was it. Maybe that kind of thing is legal, but it shouldn’t be.
It's disgusting. And I'm not blaming her at all.
She's a kid. Maybe this is me making assumptions and being judgmental, but I'm guessing she's got issues if she's fucking forty-seven-year-old men and accepting luxury goods in return.
She's vulnerable. Susceptible. And Eddie is…
well, he's a charmer and a master manipulator. I should know."
"He should be taken out back and beaten," Cole growls. "Fucking predator."
"I don't disagree with that assessment," I tell him. "But it wasn't…" I sigh. "I was surprised, but not shocked, if that makes any sense."
He nods. "It does. I guess I feel something similar right now. Like I said, I suspected that a pregnancy was the reason you left, but I never knew for sure. So when you told me, I was surprised by the truth, but not exactly shocked. So I get it."
"The backhand did surprise me." I exhale delicately through my nose, eyes closing as I finally admit something that I don't think anyone has ever known about my life. "My dad hits my mom."
Cole literally staggers backward in shock. "What?"
"It's something I've kept secret my whole life,” I whisper, then continue at a normal volume.
“He…he's not a drunk and he never hit me.
But he'd…Mom would talk back to him and he'd slap her.
He'd be frustrated about something and Mom would do or say something that irritated him and he'd slap her.
He never punched her, not that it makes it any better—I don't know why I even made that clarification, to be honest. It wasn't, like, a daily occurrence, but it was a regular and consistent pattern. And she just took it. She never complained. Never got mad at him. Never yelled at him. She just…took it. And I’ve never understood.
I still don't. And my whole life, I swore that I'd never let any man hit me.
And when Eddie slapped me, well…I was done anyway, but that was the line in the sand.
I was already planning on leaving him. I was just…
I was thinking of an apartment in Detroit or something.
Figure out a job, I dunno. I have a law degree, and I passed the bar, but I haven't practiced or worked at all in ten years. I guess Eddie saw my potential success eclipsing his own and he couldn’t have that, so he convinced me to quit.
To be a stay-at-home wife." I can see him considering his words.
"Just ask whatever it is, Cole. I can see you thinking about something. "
"You and Eddie…you never had kids?”
That's an ache that never goes away. "No.
Not for lack of trying. We did all the things.
But I had a severe reaction to the fertility drugs that just made the whole thing impossible, especially because obviously I'm not the infertile one.
Eddie…well, whatever. I reached a point where I just knew it wasn't in the cards for us, and I think deep down, I was glad.
I don't think I wanted to have his kid. I didn't want to be tied to him for the rest of my life. So no. We never had kids."
"I honestly don't know what to say to that," Cole says.
"Nothing to say," I answer.
He looks away, then back to me. "I'm still speechless about you saying your dad hit your mom. I would never, ever have suspected. She's so sweet, and he’s so…” he trails off, trying to find the right word for my father.
And to be fair, that's not an easy thing. My father is a complicated man.
"So my dad?" I say, sniffing a not-quite-laugh of sarcasm.
"What words should you use to describe him?
Super religious. Holier-than-thou. Rigid and inflexible regarding his notions of right and wrong, which come from a very literal understanding of Scripture.
He can also be funny and kind. He could be loving to me and to Mom.
But he could also be very mean and demanding, and he was utterly impossible to please. "
"You kept that quiet even from me," Cole says. "I guess it just never occurred to me that you were keeping things like that from me."
I wince. "I'm sorry, Cole. I just…I suppose I didn't want you to feel sorry for me or to…
I dunno, try and interfere. There's nothing—and I mean nothing—that my father could ever do that would make my mother leave him.
It's admirable, in a way. I have complicated feelings on that topic, because on one hand, as I said, her commitment to him is admirable, and I respect her for standing by that vow.
But I also feel…god, how do I put it? Sad for her?
Almost contemptuous, at times? Like, fucking hell, Mom, stand up for yourself!
Don't just let the man smack you around like that! "
"But he never hit you?" Cole asks.
I shake my head. "No. Never." I tip my head to one side. "Almost did, once." I clear my throat. "We were arguing about you, actually. Senior year. Mom found the condoms I kept in my purse."
“I bet that went well,” Cole snickers.
“Oh yeah, just great,” she says, with deadpan sarcasm.
“I think that may be the only time in history that the whole ‘they’re not mine, they’re my friend’s, I’m just holding them’ actually worked.
I think mainly because they didn’t want to believe I was having sex.
I still can’t quite believe I pulled that off. ”
"Dad went through my truck every week,” Cole says.
“Searched it like I was a criminal. Tossed the glove compartment, looked under the seats with a flashlight.
Looking for drugs or alcohol, I guess. He also went through my room right up until I left for the academy.
Your purse was the only place we could hide them. "
"He really searched your room?" I can't help asking.
"As if he were carrying out a search warrant, yes. Literally tossed my room. Every fucking week, I had to spend an hour putting it back together because he would throw my clothes out of my drawers and the closet and flip my mattress to look under my bed."